Everybody’s ‘doing me’ 

When they should be doing we.

With so little time left,

Why aren’t we united? 

I think THAT’S a shame.
Everyone’s ‘holding their space’ 

While complaining about race; 

The competition’s status is 

‘Feeling privileged’ 

While we’re running in place. 

I think THAT’S a shame.
‘The time is Now’! 

Ain’t you heard? 

Or is ‘Action’ just a verb, 

Another word? 

‘Humble beginnings’ are 

‘Stumbling blocks’, not 

‘Stepping stones’ :

Because they ‘flatter to deceive’ 

Leading ones to believe 

That they’ve achieved…What? 

I’ve never seen so many 

‘Fat people’ claiming ‘Hard Times’!

I think THAT’S a shame!
Don’t get me wrong! 

I knock not your struggle

I just think that 

We all should huddle 

‘Leave no man behind!’ 

Should be our mantra. 

Let go of hollowed gods and Santa

Or, our forward steps 

This generation 

Will be reversed by the next. 

And THAT will be a shame.
‘We’ve come a long way baby!’

But no-one stands still in a race 

So they’ve been making distance too 

So we’re still playing catch up. 

No time for breaks, 

For ‘doing me’.

You’re ‘hurting the team’ ; 

Obfuscating ‘The dream’. 

Think we’re ready to take it 

 ‘by any means’ ? 

Not even close! 

And THAT’S a shame!
Let’s get off the treadmill 

And hit the ground running 

In this ‘battle of wills’ 

Invoke ancestral cunning. 

Leave ‘lost causes’ behind 

As they’re identified; 

The effects of the 

carriage of baggage 

Can be stunning;



Causing ‘running in place’.. 

Static energy; 

A waste..

A downright disgrace, 

If you’re in a race. 

And THAT’S a shame!
And you this case..

In a race for your race 

Against a system so subtle 

The mere mention of race can scuttle ‘Friendships’ .

Which weren’t;

They were just treaties,

You learnt;

So all that you’ve earned 


Is nothing of value 


Because it helps not 

The collective 

And that should be 

The objective! 

But many don’t, 

Or won’t,

Or can’t, 

See This!

And THAT’S a shame!

We’re getting picked off,

‘One by one’, ‘

Day by day’. 

For failing to realize 

We’re on a battlefield: 

In a war full of ‘Soldiers’,

But no army. 

Plenty ‘Generals’,

 but no command. 

Lots of grunts from the ‘Grunts’

On the frontline

Yet oblivious to the doom it spells 

For yours and mine. 

 ‘Wake Up!’

‘You better recognize!’ 

‘Time’s running out’, 

Really !

‘The Time is now!’ 

Ideally !

‘It’s a battle of wills’

Get steely ! 

I’m using clichés, blithely 

Throughout this essay, rightly;  

But there’s a 

‘Method to my madness’ 

And it’s a ‘root cause’ 

Of my sadness.

The repetitiveness of life 

Can induce a ‘clichéd’ feeling, 

Spur cynicism,

Breed ennui, 

Seeding the need for time off, 

To ‘do me’.

‘Now Hear This!’ 

We ourselves are on the verge 

of being clichéd, 

And our failure to act 

is about to make us REDUNDANT.



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